I had fallen asleep where I lay, and was awakened by the policeman.
There I sat, recalled mercilessly to life and misery. My first feeling
was of stupid amazement at finding myself in the open air; but this was
quickly replaced by a bitter despondency, I was near crying with sorrow
at being still alive. It had rained whilst I slept, and my clothes were
soaked through and through, and I felt a damp cold in my limbs.
The darkness was denser; it was with difficulty that I could
distinguish the policeman's face in front of me.
"So, that's right," he said; "get up now."
I got up at once; if he had commanded me to lie down again I would have
obeyed too. I was fearfully dejected, and utterly without strength;
added to that, I was almost instantly aware of the pangs of hunger
again.
"Hold on there!" the policeman shouted after me; "why, you're walking
off without your hat, you Juggins! So--h there; now, go on."
"I indeed thought there was something--something I had forgotten," I
stammered, absently. "Thanks, good-night!" and I stumbled away.
If one only had a little bread to eat; one of those delicious little
brown loaves that one could bite into as one walked along the street;
and as I went on I thought over the particular sort of brown bread that
would be so unspeakably good to munch. I was bitterly hungry; wished
myself dead and buried; I got maudlin, and wept.
There never was any end to my misery. Suddenly I stopped in the street,
stamped on the pavement, and cursed loudly. What was it he called me? A
"Juggins"? I would just show him what calling me a "Juggins" means. I
turned round and ran back. I felt red-hot with anger. Down the street I
stumbled, and fell, but I paid no heed to it, jumped up again, and ran
on. But by the time I reached the railway station I had become so tired
that I did not feel able to proceed all the way to the landing-stage;
besides, my anger had cooled down with the run. At length I pulled up
and drew breath. Was it not, after all, a matter of perfect
indifference to me what such a policeman said? Yes; but one couldn't
stand everything. Right enough, I interrupted myself; but he knew no
better. And I found this argument satisfactory. I repeated twice to
myself, "He knew no better"; and with that I returned again.
"Good Lord!" thought I, wrathfully, "what things you do take into your
head: running about like a madman through the soaking wet streets on
dark nights." My hunger was now tormenting me excruciatingly, and gave
me no rest. Again and again I swallowed saliva to try and satisfy
myself a little; I fancied it helped.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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